


parallel lines

by transclawed



Series: silent the sound as i come back around [6]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Grooming, M/M, Manipulation, Other, assisted self-harm, but my hell brain decided to kick that up a notch so, edited tags and warnings now that chapter two is up, here we are, just bad shit man, mark jefferson is his own content warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21525997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transclawed/pseuds/transclawed
Summary: nathan hurts himself. jefferson finds out.nathan is 17-18 in this fic.
Relationships: Mark Jefferson/Nathan Prescott
Series: silent the sound as i come back around [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514486
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

nathan sometimes wishes he could wear short sleeves. but that would mean his arms would be out in the open, and thats just too much trouble to deal with. he gets enough stares of hate, he'd rather have those any day than stares of pity. and the lines tearing up his forearms, and up halfway to his shoulders, they usually tend to attract trouble.  
still, he thinks, scratching lazily at his arms, itching from dried blood catching on fabric, at least once the school day ends, he can get out of here. its too hot for long sleeves, and he sweats through his last few classes, too distracted to notice jefferson's eyes linger on his hands.

[ m. jefferson: Meet up at the usual place later. How does seven sound? ]  
[ nathan: yeah sure ig ]

nathan sets the phone down on the seat beside him, legs propped up on his dashboard. he'd decided to chill be the beach, but since there were people out and about, he decides his truck was a good a place as any to relax, 'medicate,' as he heard price say once. hilarious, when you didnt actually have to take medication. he'd laughed at how she parked the other day too, right across two handicap spaces. even he, nathan prescott, wasn't that much of an asshole. but he doesnt want to think about that wannabe punk, so he pulls out a pair of headphones, letting his phone now rest on his leg as he watched the sun begin to set. it was warm, and he throws his jacket over his lap, letting the sun soak in for a change.

BZZZT. BZZZT. BZZZT. BZZZT. BZZ-

nathan scrambles to grab his phone, woken up rather rudely when it had vibrated enough to clatter to the floor of the truck, and he quickly answers the phone, trying to calm his breath again. ah, fuck, he hadn't meant to fall asleep.

"yeah, yeah, im here. whats up."

a disappointed sigh answers him, and he slumps back into his seat, panic starting to settle.

"if seven didnt work for you, theres no need to lie. i know you cant always answer my every call, but a little warning would be nice, nathan."

oh, right. nathan quickly starts his car with one hand, wincing at the time when the clock lights up. 7:13.

"shit, im sorry. i swear, i fell asleep, ill be right there. im not busy, im sorry."

"well, if you need the rest, by all means, go ahead, i wouldnt deny you that. i just.. ah, never mind. i-"

"no- no, no, im on my way, im fine. please, dont leave, i- i'll be right there. i want to be there. i promise. just wait."

nathan cuts him off, even if that might've been rude. he didnt want to waste more of jefferson's time than he already had, stupid, stupid. drive faster, its already getting fuckin dark.

"well, if you're absolutely sure. i can wait. i'll see you soon, nathan."

"thank you! i am, i- yeah, see you. thank you."

he ends the call as a wave of relief washes over him, thanking whatever god or gods maybe existed somewhere out there(although, he never really had believed in that sort of thing. he'd seen too many things to think there was any sort of justice like that.) that jefferson, despite everything, was always so patient with him. well, when it came to his work maybe sometimes he was a little impatient, but that wasn't his fault. it was important work, and it meant a lot to him. yeah, yeah. not his fault.

christ, nathan couldnt believe how stupid he was, falling asleep like that. he'd been sleeping poorly, of course, but that wasnt new, and he'd always been able to stave off his crashes until he didnt have anything planned. he should've known he would fall asleep, should've done something.

and then he's there, at the barn. he parks the truck around the side, before hopping out and slipping in through the side entrance. it was faster than unlocking the front doors, and he was in a hurry. in moments he was hurrying down the familiar steps and pressing the keypad without even looking, backpack slung over one shoulder haphazardly. aw, shit. as the door locks behind him, nathan realizes he'd never grabbed his jacket again out of the truck, and slowed midstep. should he go back and grab it? did he have time? would-

"nathan, im glad you made it! didnt go too much over the speed limit, i hope? come over here already."

well, fuck. he'd just have to deal, then. nathan obeys, stepping casually past the curtain and dropping his backpack onto the couch, before plopping down himself.

"you know me, im impatient. never made any promises about how id make it here so quickly, what can i say."

he cracks a smile, peering over the back of the couch at jefferson, who was, as usual, at the desk, seemingly sorting through pictures. well, he might as well print some of his latest, nathan figures, since they were here. he easily busies himself with connecting his camera to the printer, picking about a dozen or so photos to print.

"whats that?"

the sudden question almost makes nathan jump, and he opens his mouth to ask what the hell he was talking about, when a few footsteps cut him off and a hand takes hold of his wrist. it pulls up so that his arm is now fully on display, and he looks away, unable to meet jefferson's eyes. he refuses to see pity there, of all places. no fucking way. he shrugs in response, and tries to pull his hand away but the grip on it merely tightens. as nathan glares up, prepared to swear his way out of this, the look on his teacher's face makes him freeze. it isnt pity, it's.. what? interest? intrigue? amusement? he almost wanted to say hunger, but that had to be wrong.

"what are these, nathan? you know i dont appreciate my questions being ignored."

nathan pulls again, and this time, he's allowed to bring his arm back to himself. with a scowl, he moves his gaze to a point on the printer, muttering a response.

"what does it fuckin look like? its just some cuts n shit. i dont want this to be a big deal, okay, so if we could drop it, id appreciate it. i just forgot my stupid jacket in the truck."

the silence after that stretches on, the only sound breaking it is the printer. when its done, nathan stands, still avoiding looking at the other, and collects his photos, deciding to sit on the floor to organize them. he's spread them out, looking them over, when jefferson sits down next to him, still quiet.

"look, if you think i need a doctor, you're wr-"

"nathan."

jefferson cuts him off now, and nathan shuts his mouth with a snap. there's a sigh, and then the man is taking his hand, holding it between them and gently running his fingers over the scars and newer wounds. a shiver runs through nathan at the touch, but he just hangs his head, waiting for judgement.

"the next time you feel the urge to do this, i want you to call me. i cant stop you, but i can at least supervise, help take care of you. does that sound alright to you, nathan?"

"i, uh."

for a moment, nathan just stares at him, trying to figure out his angle. did he expect a reward, helping him out? he doesnt pull his arm away, despite the wariness, and after another moment, he nods. might as well see where it leads, right? if theres an angle, he'll see it.

"okay. what if i called you at 4 in the morning, you'd rush on over to help me, or what?"

jefferson chuckles softly at that, only now letting go of his arm and instead, reaching out to organize his photos into a near-perfect grid in front of them on the floor as he talks.

"even at 4 am. and id suggest meeting here, unless you enjoy the gossip students like to spread about late night meetings between friends."

nathan snorted, rolling his eyes. as if jefferson would ever be concerned about rumors of all things. he was one of the most popular teachers in the school, not to mention famous, and it was high school. there would always be rumors and gossip, he'd even heard that jefferson was sleeping with victoria, which he knew as well as anyone wasnt the least bit true.

"i hope you'll at least consider it, alright, nathan?"

he feels jefferson reach out and pat his shoulder, letting it linger there for just a bit too long before standing, offering him a hand. nathan takes it after a moment, pulling himself up and suddenly, feeling very small.

"yeah. okay. ill think about it."


	2. guilt is a man's best friend.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nathan takes jefferson up on that phone call. it turns into something he'd never expected, or imagined. its a bad time for everyone but jefferson around here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly all ive got to say is sorry for this one

it isnt, despite his half-sarcastic snark before, 4 am, when nathan calls jefferson. its only 2, and the moment he hits the call button, he regrets it. but the cool voice answering him is in his ear before he can hang up, before he can change his mind.

"nathan, is everything alright?"

he clears his throat, eyes sliding around the floor, trying to skip over the blade glinting in the light, balanced on the skin of his thigh. talk, idiot. either get the guts to hang up, or answer him.

"i, uh. you said to- to call you. when i wanted to, uh. cut myself."

he feels the words drop out of his mouth baldly, and cringes at himself. how pathetic. he shouldn't be asking for help, he shouldnt be rolling over like this, exposing his soft insides. like he cant handle this, like he hasnt done this a million times over, like-

"okay. can you take a breath for me, nathan? where are you, right now?"

nathan almost laughs, but manages to keep it down to a strangled sound that he hopes doesnt make it over the phone. the lights arent on, not the photography ones, but he knew he'd be left alone here. he'd almost had someone barge into his room one night in the dorms and see him like that, though he'd managed to sound furious through the door enough to send them running. he could never let that happen. but tonight had been bad, and he just.. it was easy. easier to focus on the burn of a blade and blood than it was to focus on the roiling dark mass within him, easier to distract than to face himself, face what he was on the inside. nathan realizes he's been silent for too long, and clears his throat again, listening to the steady breathing on the other side.

"uh, im at the dark room. i knew no one would uh, no one would see me here."

and he told you to come here, says the voice in the back of his head. he grits his teeth, trying to ignore it. he wasn't being manipulated, even if this was the first time he'd ever considered coming here without letting jefferson know beforehand, without him being here. he came here because it made _sense._

"alright, ill be right there, im glad you called, nathan. ill see you in a f-"

"NO, no please, dont, dont hang up. could you just, um, stay on the phone with me? you dont have to talk, i just.. its quiet in here."

nathan's voice sounds shaky and stupid and he hates it, but he knows he can't be left alone. he knows that voice will come back, it'll say things that hurt. that this was wrong. that jefferson wanted to help him, that jefferson _didn't_ want to help him. nathan knew if he got off that phone, he would bolt out of here like a wounded deer. he can hear jefferson make a sound on the other side, and it almost sounds like a gentle laugh, and maybe it is. he must be getting close, because the signal always gets shit in the curving roads leading to the barn. in here, of course, he had signal, they'd set up their own internet and system, but for most it would be a dead zone. just in case.

"im not going anywhere, nate. just breathe, alright? im almost there. breathe with me. like this."

jefferson starts breathing, slow and steady, calm, and nathan does his best to keep up. its hard, because his lungs seem to fight the calm, his entire body tense as a bowstring and for a moment, he's almost sure that he's going to flee. and then jefferson's breathing comes through again, and he focuses, trying to ground himself on that sound. and when thats the only thing he let himself think about, he finds himself steadying, ever so slightly. he even jumps when he hears the door open, heartbeat going erratic before he huffs, harsh and hard, as if that could slow it down. the door opens the same speed it always does when jefferson opens it, no hurry, but not as if he doesnt care. jefferson sees him sitting on the couch, in a t-shirt and shorts, and he's not wearing his usual attire, either. nathan's face burns in embarassment, that he'd bothered him at all and this _late,_ when he takes in the casual clothes his teacher appears in. jefferson gives him a reassuring nod, pressing the button on his phone to end the call, now that he was here.

"thank you, for staying. i know these kinds of things can be hard, accepting help, but nathan, i want you to know that im proud of you. and im glad you trust me enough, to let me help."

his voice and smile are like a warm breeze to nathan and he cant help but relax, just a bit, at that. stupid. you're just showing him how _weak_ you are, that little, insidious voice says. he speaks over it, out loud, as if that could drown it out.

"yeah. i, im glad you're here. i uh, im.. im still going to do it. but you wanted to be here to help, so.."

his voice trails off, and nathan's eyes trace jefferson's face nervously. what was he even doing. he did want to take that blade, right now, but he suddenly felt small in that bright, white room, and even smaller with his teacher there. who, with a small, encouraging smile, made his way over to the couch as he listened to nathan's awkward, pathetic little sentence. he sits down next to him, and nathan feels suddenly too hot, he's too close, even though he only sat down, and nothing else.

"i usually sit on the uh, on the floor."

he blurts out, even as jefferson opens his mouth to say something. he looks away again in embarrassment, but this time, its more shame than anything else.

"nathan. im here to help, not to fight you. do what feels comfortable to you. no one else is going to hurt you here."

somehow, nathan feels a little better at that. sure, seeing the cuts and scars was one thing, but he hadnt expected anything but pity, and maybe disgust, if this had ever become a real scenario. seems like it did. he nods, and slides himself to the floor, blade between his fingers, careful. it wasn't big, or industrial. just a thin razor blade he'd gotten from pulling apart a razor, one he'd stolen from a new pack that he'd spotted at a friend's dorm. he straightens his legs out, looking over the scarred flesh for fresh, open places, ones he hadn't dug into before. he tries to ignore the presence that remained on the couch, that had leaned back and was watching him with a cool face. those eyes were like sparks in a cold mask, but nathan told himself he was here because he cared. that has to be the reason. he breathes out through his nose, hard, and suddenly pulls the blade through the meat on his thigh with impulsive abandon. stop being a coward, he told himself as he moved, just _do_ it. when he looks back its only half-deep, and he can see the white and pink of fat, the slit that's clean and clinical for a few moments before the body reacts. beads of blood, dark and hot against his skin, begin to well up at the edges, and he breathes in, feeling the pain. he goes again, anger pushing his hand lower, into the flesh, pulling more red to the surface until its trickling down the sides of his thigh, cooling and coagulating but its coming too fast to stop. it burns, and he can feel tears prickling at his eyes and he tries to blink them away, setting the blade down on his other leg. he runs his fingers down the messy parts, pulling the lines apart with his fingernails, trying to see just how much he can make it bleed before it refuses, like it always does. its a sick fascination, but he's always told himself, he only hurt himself, so who cares. what did it matter. he hears a gentle, soft sigh from somewhere above him, and suddenly, nathan remembers he's not alone.

his eyes flash up to meet the others, and jefferson's gaze doesnt shy away. he's leaning forward, now, towards him, still on the couch and frankly he's practically _looming_ over him. nathan instantly shrinks back, but he cant tear his eyes away, trying to read that face. jefferson takes a breath and seems to move back just slightly, giving nathan the room he needs to breathe.

"its alright, nate. im here. you're here. there's no need to be afraid. you're very strong, and you're doing a such a good job. do you need help?"

nathan watches jefferon's eyes go lazily from the blade in his hands, to his mutilated leg, and back up to his face. his brain seems to stop working, and it must show on his face because jefferson is suddenly on the floor beside him, gently taking the blade out of his hand. nathan lets him, and he tries to pull away because its suddenly too hot, too claustrophobic, and he knows he's overthinking everything. his teacher is too close, one arm around his waist to keep him upright, and the other, running along his injured thigh as he leans over him, taking in the damage. nathan can swear the other man has a tension running through him he's never seen before, and something in his brain forces panic into him and he tries to stand, tries to pull out of his grasp but jefferson is stronger than him, always has been, and keeps him in place with a firm, almost painful grip. something is in the air, and nathan feels goosebumps start to raise along his skin, and he _knows_ something bad is about to happen. he squeezes his eyes shut and freezes in place, begging with near-silent pleas through trembling lips, waiting for.. for _something._

the next thing he feels, is something wiping at the blood on his leg. with a shuddering breath he opens his eyes, and he feels crazy for a moment because jefferson is calmly cleaning the blood and mess off of his skin, not too close, with care. he tries to take a deep breath, but it hitches in his throat, and jefferson finally looks back at him at the sound. his gaze is steel and calm, and he doesnt slow the cleaning as he speaks.

"breathe, nathan. with me. you're doing so well."

nathan feels his insides twist strangely at the words and shakes his head, trying to ignore it. but slowly, he's able to match his breaths, slow, to jefferson's. he almost doesnt even notice the man bandaging his thigh, working to keep his lungs controlled, and its only when the man pats his leg and sit back, that he realizes there's gauze over the damage. 

"you um, you-"

he can hear how pathetic he sounds, and he clears his throat, trying to add some steel into it of his own. jefferson is patient, and the soft smile on his face makes nathan feel safer, somehow. none of this makes any sense.

"you didnt have to do that. i can take care of myself."

jefferson chuckles, and its quiet, but in the silence down here, its so loud nathan almost wants to tell him to whisper. he never feels like this after, so clean and orderly, when he does these things.

"i came here to help you, nate. i know you can, but you shouldn't have to take care of yourself. not all the time, at least. i care, about you, nate. maybe even a little too much."

jefferson sounds almost guilty, nathan thinks, when he says that last sentence. he doesnt understand, but when the man opens his arms for a hug, he cant seem to keep himself from taking this comfort. its a little awkward, a strange half-sideways hug, but there's strong arms holding him together and when he crushes his face against jefferson's chest, he can smell the man's cologne. he hates himself, hates his brain, for having _thoughts,_ about jefferson, sometimes. he pushes them down, he knows its wrong, and he knows its because there's so many things wrong with him but for once, he finds himself simply comforted by the hug. he doesnt overcomplicate it for himself, those thoughts dont even spring up. he holds on tight and everything feels right in the world, for the first time in his life. he pulls away, of course, forcing that to end. its only when he pulls away that he hears a strange, small sound escape from jefferson's mouth, and he cant quite understand _what_ it was. and then his elbow hits something he's not expecting, something different from the softness of jefferson's shirt and abdomen, and he jerks away, eyes big as moons as he recoils. the man pulls back too, almost as quickly, and nathan watches as different emotions flash across his face. embarrassment, guilt, shame. he quickly puts a hand up, looking like a man who's been stabbed.

"nate, im sorry. im so sorry, its not you, i simply.. my body doesnt react correctly, its not.. i.. ive had issues in the past. i cant control it. different stimulus makes it react differently, i didnt think.. you just looked so... im sorry. i need to leave."

nathan is still scrambling to understand the words coming out of his mouth before jefferson is standing, entire face pained and apologetic, and turning, he's leaving, he's and nathan doesnt understand what he did _wrong_ or why he feels guilt churning in his stomach, as if this was his fault. he hadn't meant to jerk away from him like that, he just.. he what? hadn't expected to feel jefferson half-hard, or expected him to feel guilty when he says he doesnt have control over his body's reactions? nathan cant process any of it, but he reaches out to snatch at jefferson's sleeve, his turn to look pleading. he's not even fully standing up before the words are pouring out of his mouth.

"its-its okay, its not your fault. y-you cant control it. you dont have to leave. please, dont just.. dont just leave me alone. i swear im not mad, or a-anything, just dont leave."

nathan's voice cracks and he hates himself for this. he's too weak, to throw away someone who cares about him, even if he sees the glaring red flags. he still feels the ghost of that hug around him and he needs it. he hates himself for needing this, this simply, human contact, but jefferson's the first person to genuinely hug him since.. since kris left. jefferson's face is tortured and conflicted, so when nathan see's an almost-smile slide by, he can tell himself it wasn't there at all. he still has his fingers curled into the sleeve of his teacher's shirt, and they hurt with how hard he's curled his nails in. he gives it a tug, as if to reinforce his words, even if he didnt understand what he was saying himself. that seems to pull jefferson back into focus, and he pulls nathan into another hug, pressing a kiss to his forehead. its almost alright, it almost feels comforting, and nathan tries to swallow down the nausea at what's pressed against him, by accident, or not. he feels jefferson sigh against his hair, and it seems close enough to one of relief, that he accepts it as one.

"thank you, nate. for.. understanding. its a reason why i dont see many people, keep my distance. its lonely, but.. i have to. i should've kept my distance from you, protected you. i couldnt help wanting to help, though."

another sigh, and nathan pulls away, slow, this time. he swallows, feeling horrible. like he caused this. maybe he did, and maybe it was his fault that now his teacher was standing there with eyes full of apologies, and guilt. he looks down at the floor, trying not to look _there,_ of all places. he struggles with it. but then he puts a hand, so lightly its almost not there, at jefferson's waist. he hates himself, again, for thinking about it, but he cant help it. its a solution, he tries reasoning with himself. he can make up for the embarrassment. jefferson is looking at him strangely when he looks up to meet him.

"i.. can help. with.."

christ, you cant offer that and fail to get the words out properly, you coward! nathan swallows again, forcing his voice louder.

"if you want. i dont know, uh, a lot, but. then you wont have to feel bad."

jefferson takes a shallow breath, before shaking his head.

"nate, i.. you're my student. i know we've become close, but i.. i couldnt do that to you. its not right."

for some reason, hearing that sparks a little in nathan's veins. the hand on jefferson's hip settles firmer, and his other comes up to curl over his belt, just holding it, for now.

"what, you think i cant handle this shit? maybe i want to do this. let me, help _you."_

\---

he'd remember the moments like these, later on. about how easy it had been, for jefferson to smile at him, and bring a hand up to stroke his hair. to give in, he'd thought, back then. to use him, he thought, now.

\---

"okay, nate."

said jefferson, letting nathan pull him towards the couch without any of the resistance he'd so valiantly put up before. nathan feels sick, but he also feels the guilt, the need to right whatever wrongs he'd done to cause this. and so they sit, and he undoes jefferson's belt, and his hands are still sticky with blood until they're sticky with something else.


End file.
